The Rooftops
by peachringsandbananas
Summary: Sherlock has always lived across the way from John Watson, their rooftops meeting perfectly in the middle. One night, they finally meet.


Sherlock glanced around the quiet house, watching for any signs his brother could possibly be awake, but there were none. He smiled, scurrying back to his bedroom and hopping up on the bed, almost tasting the cool night air that awaited him. His fingers easily flicked the locks up, gaining him access to the secret cove he escaped to in the night. His family had yet to discover his late night outings, and he didn't want them to. It was his quiet spot to escape the stress of his household, and he didn't want it tainted. Even at such a young age, he knew his mother would never let him return there if she found out. He shrugged away the bad thoughts, taking a tentative step out onto the creaking roof. The young boy couldn't help but smile as the stars flickered in and out of view above him.

"Hello?"

Sherlock was pulled away from his gazing, interrupted by a tapping on the window across from his. A blonde boy was staring at him curiously, fingers fumbling clumsily with the locks before they finally popped open. He took a step out on his own roof, walking over to the edge and smiling at him.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

"This is my mind palace." He answered matter of factly, turning back to the night sky.

"Oh. May I come in?" As soon as he received a slight nod, the short boy hopped over to him, plopping down a few inches away and glancing up as well.

"I'm John." He piped up after a moment, not turning from his spot.

"Sherlock." The brunette responded, smile threatening at his lips.

"Do you like space, Sherlock?"

"Yes... Although I don't know much about it."

"Would you like me to teach you?"

"I suppose." A smile broke out across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. It had been ages since he last smiled that much. He automatically scooted over closer to John, comforted by warmth that radiated from the hand so close to his.

"Alright, that star there is…"

John tapped at the window, smiling at his best friend across the way, pointing down at the roof space in between them. They had taken to calling each this way, always late at night, covered by the veil of the dark sky around them. Sherlock gave a nod across the way, already swiftly hopping onto the roof. John had never quite gotten the hang of getting through that bloody window himself, but he at least made an attempt.

"Hello, John." Sherlock greeted him as he always did, no emotion across his face, but a silent invite to sit in the space next to him, and that meant more than a simple smile ever could.

"Hello, Sherlock." He smiled, lowering himself down next to him, fingertips brushing before John quickly scooted his hand away. "How's your day been?"

"Dull." The taller boy stated simply, leaning back until he was laying down and staring up at the stars he had gone so fond of. John hesitated, but followed suit, Sherlock's long curls brushing at the top of his head by the time he was laying down completely.

"You always say that." It was true of course, Sherlock rarely had anything to report. But John didn't ask.

An hour passed in silence before either of them spoke again.

"Sherlock?" John whispered nervously, hands fidgeting in his lap.

"Hmm?"

"I quite like these nights."

There was no response other than a quiet hum of acknowledgement, after which John continued.

"I quite like you, as well…" He shifted, laying his hands down on either side of himself and taking a deep breath.

The only answer he received was cold fingers sliding in between his own, and that was all he wanted.

"I've learned a few new stars, if you'd like to hear them."

"Of course."

"That one there is…"

Loud tapping echoed across the alley as Sherlock attempted to gain John's attention, a wide smile seeming out of place on his usually unemotional face.

"John!" He whispered excitedly, already making his way to his usual seat as John groggily stumbled from his bedroom.

"It's bloody three in the morning, Sherlock!"

"Yes, John, that much is obvious." His smile didn't falter.

"What do you want, then? I haven't learned any new stars, if that's what you're wondering."

Sherlock sighed, standing up and taking quick strides over to the blonde, pressing his lips up against his gently. John let out a surprised gasp, leaning into him, but before he knew it, Sherlock had already pulled away, and was heading back inside.

"Sherlock, come back here!" He laughed, gesturing him back over.

"Really, John, it's bloody three in the morning, get some sleep!"

The window closed with a click, the remains of the brunette's laugh still echoing around, leaving John alone on the rooftops, quietly chuckling to himself.

"Sherlock Holmes…"

"You're an adult, Sherlock, how could you neglect to learn such simple knowledge as the solar system?" Mycroft stared at his brother curiously, eyebrows raised.

"It doesn't matter, Mycroft. None of it matters."

"Sherlock, honestly!"

"The stars are no more use to me than a dead man, leave me be, Mycroft!" Sherlock hissed back, teeth held tightly together.

Mycroft shook his head, folding up his paper and placing it once more in his lap. The black and white lettering spelling out "John H. Watson, found dead in local alleyway" was printed across the top, pictures of the blood stained concrete shown underneath.

"I will never understand you, little brother.."


End file.
